


Serenading in the Trenches

by SlantedKnitting



Series: pornalot 2017 (bonuses) [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - War, M/M, Modern Era, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 21:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlantedKnitting/pseuds/SlantedKnitting
Summary: Merlin and Arthur are soldiers, trapped together in a trench and waiting for the next attack.Historical AU.





	Serenading in the Trenches

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Fake Relationships and Forced Proximity](http://pornalot.livejournal.com/12410.html) Bonus Challenge (Pornalot 2017).
> 
> Also, I was thinking WWI/WWII when I wrote this, but I don't _really_ know much about either, so let's just say that this is a non-specified war.

Arthur didn't want to be in this godforsaken hole for one more second. He didn't want to be anywhere near this place. He wanted to be back home, in the city, surrounded by his friends and reasonable food and good music.

He fiddled with the ring that he wore on the chain around his neck. He used to wear it on his thumb, but it had fallen off one too many times, so now he had it next to his identification tags for safekeeping.

It had been his mother's. It was the only thing from home he'd brought with him.

Which had been stupid. Most of the other soldiers had trinkets and photographs and letters and tokens. All he had was his mother's ring.

"Shut up," Merlin mumbled, and Arthur realised he'd been sighing and grinding his teeth.

Arthur took a deep breath and looked up at the sky to clear his head. Mornings were always the worst part of the day. Waking up stiff and sore and covered in dirt. Waking up and panicking over every sound because it could be the enemy. Waking up and remembering where you were and what you were doing and how long you had been doing it and how much longer you still had to go.

Not that anyone knew when this war would be over.

Not that they'd really slept at all during the night. Arthur had nodded off a few times, but something had always woken him back up. Merlin had only had his eyes closed for an hour or so. He might not have even fallen properly asleep.

Merlin shifted a little, his body curling into Arthur's, and Arthur fought back a shiver.

Fuck, he was so lonely.

There was a noise overhead, and Arthur glanced up to see Kilgharrah sticking his head down into Merlin and Arthur's hole.

"Hey, boy," Arthur said, getting to his knees. He reached up and took a small note out of the dog's vest, and the dog sprinted off again before Arthur had even unfolded it.

"Bad news?" Merlin asked, his eyes still closed.

The paper just had a crude drawing on it. It was from Gwaine, another soldier who seemed to think that everyone loved him despite the fact that he was constantly causing trouble.

Arthur dropped the note in Merlin's lap and sat back down.

Merlin grumbled a little as he got up and rearranged himself across from Arthur, his back against the opposite wall of their small trench. He stretched out his legs as best he could, resting the heels of his feet on the wall near Arthur's head so that he looked a little like a human hammock. He glanced down at the note and smirked.

"Do you think this is code for something?"

"Code for what?" Arthur asked, snatching it back. He stuffed it in his pocket with the rest of Gwaine's stupid notes, which were the closest things he had to personal effects besides the ring.

"Code for him wanting to do that to you."

Arthur rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the dirt, wondering if he had time to drift back off before the day began.

Merlin started humming and Arthur ignored it for a while until he recognized the tune.

"Could you not sing bloody Christmas carols in the spring?"

Merlin smiled innocently and pulled a letter out of one of his own pockets. It wasn't one from Gwaine. Arthur didn't know who it was from, but he knew that Merlin read it first thing every morning and last thing every night. This wasn't the first trench they'd shared and he doubted it would be the last, but he hadn't gotten the nerve to ask about it, yet.

He didn't think he could handle hearing about Merlin's girl back home.

Not when he was so lonely. Not when he had no letters of his own. Not when every stupid smile Merlin gave him made his stomach flip.

"You're doing it again," Merlin said without looking up from his letter.

Arthur scrubbed his hands over his face and loosened his jaw, wondering what sort of damage he was doing to his teeth. Maybe he'd grind them down to nothing by the time the war ended. Maybe he'd die in a trench and someone would unbury his remains one day and find his sad, small, well-worn teeth and know that that was the mark of a soldier. Maybe they'd fall out in his old age and remind him, even decades later, of all the terrible things he'd seen.

"I need a piss," Merlin said, folding his letter up and tucking it away.

Arthur sighed and went back to fiddling with the ring as Merlin got to his knees, turned away as best he could, and pissed in a tin.

When he was done, he emptied it over the parapet and then sat back down, this time next to Arthur.

"Do you think—"

Whatever Merlin was going to ask was drowned out by sudden gunfire.

Arthur swore and grabbed his gun, getting into position before he could identify which direction it had come from.

"Was it us?" Merlin asked.

"Shush." Arthur strained to hear anything over the rush of blood pounding in his ears.

He looked around as best he could while still staying in the hole, but nothing looked different. All he could see were other soldiers setting up their own guns from inside their own holes.

"Here," Merlin said, setting Arthur's helmet on his head and strapping it on for him.

Arthur said nothing. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on edge from Merlin's touch, but he couldn't think about that right now. He had to focus.

Someone—was that Gwaine and Percival's trench?—fired and then there was an explosion of sound as everyone started shouting and shooting.

Arthur didn't know how long it went on for. It didn't seem to be any time at all, except that he had almost run out of ammunition by the time there was silence. Silence apart from the ringing in his ears, which he didn't think would ever go away at this point. Silence apart Kilgharrah's barking, which Arthur would never not be relieved to hear.

When the dog finally quieted down, Arthur saw heads disappearing back into their trenches as his fellow soldiers returned to their terrible waiting game.

Arthur slumped a little and Merlin caught him. They eased down, sliding against the wall of dirt, until they were sitting uncomfortably at the bottom of the trench, their shoulders pressed together.

"Here," Merlin said, digging into his pack. "You should eat."

He offered Arthur something wrapped in paper, but Arthur pushed it away. Right then, he couldn't imagine ever eating again. He knew his appetite would return in time, knew he would have to eat to keep up his strength, but he couldn't stomach anything just yet.

Merlin shrugged and unwrapped his food, helping himself to a dry, stale, probably tasteless breakfast. When he was finished, he took a few gulps of the cold, weak tea they'd all been subjected to for months, and then passed his bottle to Arthur.

Arthur took a sip, hoping Merlin wouldn't notice the way his hands were still trembling.

"We'll move soon," Merlin said bracingly as he slid the bottle back into his pack. "This is the longest we've ever stayed put. The men up front must be making progress. We'll move soon."

Arthur said nothing. He reached for the ring around his neck and turned it between his fingers. He drew his knees up, trying to take up as little space as possible. He breathed.

Merlin rested his head on Arthur's shoulder and Arthur's breath hitched. Politely ignoring Arthur's stuttering chest, Merlin pulled out his letter and started reading it again.

Arthur tried not to look. He didn't want to look. He didn't want to know.

"My Dearest Boy," Merlin began reading out loud, his voice soft and soothing. "I pray you are well. I pray you are healthy. I pray you are safe. On days with good news, I pray you are even happy. You are a bright sun in my life, Merlin, and I know you can bring that joy to others, even in times of war. I trust you are making good friends. I trust you are being true to your truest self. Cherish every smile, every quiet moment, every breath that brings you closer to home. God be with you. I love you with all my heart. Mum."

Arthur realised he'd closed his eyes. He felt calmer, quieter in his own head, almost at peace. He'd never known his own mother, but he liked to imagine that she would write him something so pure. In some of his worst moments, he'd even composed letters to himself in his mind, thoughts racing of what a loving parent might say to a son in desperate need.

Merlin tucked the letter safely away and then, without a word, slid an arm between Arthur's legs until he was hugging one of Arthur's thighs. Arthur quickly wrapped his arms around Merlin's chest as best he could, one arm crushed between Merlin's chest and his own leg, the other pressed to the protective dirt wall.

Despite the awkward twist of his body and the hunger settling in his stomach, it didn't take long for Arthur to fall asleep.

When he woke up, it was to the sound of Kilgharrah panting and whining overhead.

Merlin untangled himself and reached up to retrieve the note. Kilgharrah raced off and Merlin handed Arthur the note as he sat back down.

Arthur unfolded it, expecting instructions but finding only another drawing from Gwaine.

"What do you think's going to happen when he's found out?" Merlin asked.

"Nothing," Arthur answered honestly, refolding the note and slipping it into his pocket with the rest. "No one would begrudge him a little fun these days."

"No," Merlin agreed. After a long pause, he asked, "Do you think it's code for what he's getting up to with Percival?"

Arthur snorted. "Seems likely."

"Have you ever…" Merlin gestured vaguely.

Arthur pictured that last sketch—one stick figure with a cock sucking on another stick figure's cock—and went red.

"Have you?"

Merlin shrugged, but that was a ridiculous response and it gave him away immediately.

"I thought—" Arthur started before he'd even worked out what he wanted to say. "That letter—your mum."

"What?"

"I thought the letter was… not from your mum," Arthur tried again, sure he was blushing all the way down to his boots. "I thought it was from a girl."

"There's no girl," Merlin said. "It's never been girls for me."

"No," Arthur agreed.

Merlin gave him a smile—a small, shy, slow, private, giddy, seductive smile—and then leaned in for a kiss.

Dirt had never tasted so good. Arthur's body sparked, lit up with excitement rather than terror for the first time in months, and he moved closer, grabbing onto Merlin and holding on tight.

Before long, Merlin was reaching for his belt and then they both had to pull away to fight with their buckles. Eventually, though, Merlin had a hand around Arthur's cock and Arthur had a hand around Merlin's and they were kissing again, wet and filthy in every way.

Arthur had only kissed one man before. It had been sweet and timid and romantic—everything Arthur had wanted in that moment, everything he'd ever dreamed of.

Kissing Merlin was nothing like that. Merlin was a fighter. He was rough around the edges, covered in dirt, body pulsing with adrenaline, shameless with need.

And yet, while his lips against Arthur's were insistent and his hand around Arthur's cock was graceless, his other hand on the back of Arthur's neck was the gentlest, most caring touch Arthur had ever felt. His hold was loose, more of a cradle than a true grip, and his fingertips were brushing lightly against Arthur's skin, playing tenderly with the hair at Arthur's nape, caressing lovingly every inch he could reach.

Until his hand slipped to Arthur's shoulder, where he gripped so tightly that Arthur gasped, and he came with a grunt over Arthur's hand.

Arthur buried his face in Merlin's neck and breathed in hard, taking in the scent of sweat and dirt and gunpowder and _Merlin_ until his senses were overwhelmed and he was groaning against Merlin's skin as he jerked and came.

Merlin slid his hand back to Arthur's hair and tugged, forcing Arthur's head up. He kissed Arthur greedily, his hand still working Arthur through the aftershocks, and Arthur rode it out blissfully.

"I'm not letting you die today," Merlin whispered, barely bothering to break the kiss.

Arthur shook his head but said nothing. They couldn't promise each other anything. They couldn't guarantee they'd live another five minutes. But Arthur didn't want to argue that point. He just wanted to hold on to Merlin. He just wanted to exist in this moment for as long as the war would let him. He just wanted to treasure something that was finally his, finally worth fighting for, finally worth saving to take home and keep forever as a reminder of all the beautiful things he'd seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from ["Serenading in the Trenches" by Sondre Lerche](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9cVb-AXYptg). Everyone should please go watch this music video.


End file.
